Firsts
by 1in5billion
Summary: Set immediately following 14x17. Owen and Teddy got their would-have-been-perfect night after YEARS of "will-they-or-won't-they". But we all saw the episode...it didn't exactly go as planned. But their story isn't quite over...what happens after?
1. Chapter 1

"I'm done, Owen. We're done."

I opened the door, internally pleading for him to leave. The tired, broken look on his face was one that I had seen too many times, and it was suffocating me with sadness and fury. I did _not_ run from relationships when things got good. I did _not_ burn them to the ground. I was _not_ scared. It was true that I had called myself "Attachment Barbie" years before. But things were different now. I was different. And yet, here I was, closing the door on the man I'd loved most of my life, praying he couldn't hear the sobs that were threatening to choke me. I was sure he was on the other side of that door, hoping I'd change my mind and let him back in. That was just who Owen Hunt was. But if he was there, he didn't make any sign of it.

That was six weeks before. For six weeks, I lived each day as a prisoner of my own rage, but after a while, my sadness and anger turned into pure panic. Owen had used me. He had slept with his ex-wife and flown halfway across the world to what, get into my pants? But I was torn—he had still flown _halfway across the world_. For _me_. Years before, I would have considered myself the luckiest girl in the world.

That week, though, I learned what he _hadn't_ used, as I sat on my bathroom floor laughing hysterically at something that wasn't funny. Three sticks were next to me, all proudly displaying a pink plus sign, explaining everything from my emotional state, to my recent back pain, to why I'd been sick every day that week. And not just in the morning, either. It went on all day, and I swore in that moment, I had never hated anyone more than I hated the person who first used the phrase "morning sickness."

And the timing. Oh, GOD, the timing. Henry and I had never actively tried for a baby, but we sure as hell didn't do anything to prevent it. And nothing. No baby. When he died, I had hoped for weeks for a miracle pregnancy, so that I would have some part of him to hold onto. I realized later that I was wanting it for all of the wrong reasons, not to mention that I was about as un-pregnant as it was possible for someone to be.

But now, here I was. Alone in Europe, newly knocked up by my best friend, if I could even call him that now. My best friend who I had silently and desperately loved from the moment I met him. My best friend who had been getting the silent treatment from me for the past month and a half. I was over my bitterness—it was time for him to know. I owed it to the tiny person inside me to tell him. I wouldn't have wished having myself as a single mother on _any_ child. And besides, Cristina's abortion had sent Owen into a bit of a downward spiral. He had run out of any hope of having a family. I couldn't make him live through that again.

"Tonight." I cupped my hands around the bump that wasn't even visible yet, whispering to the unborn child, whose ears hadn't even developed yet. "I'll tell your dad tonight."

I spent the remainder of the day thinking of words to say to Owen, remembering in horror the time _years_ before that I had told him, in tears, that I had held puppies that morning and had gotten a fish instead. And by the time I decided I was ready to call, all I had come up with was, "Hey! We haven't talked in over a month, I still live a million miles and time zones away, only now I'm having your baby."

At that thought, I swore to myself that I would stop trying to force the conversation to be a scripted one, and dialed Owen's number.

I was sure that he hadn't been waiting by the phone, but he still picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"H-hey," I said softly.

"Teddy? Sorry I answered so fast, I figured you were—never mind, I—sorry. Forget it. I was just waiting for a call."

Amelia. He was expecting my call to be from Amelia. My throat tightened at the thought of him going back to her.

 _You kicked him out,_ I reminded myself. _He fought you on it and tried to stay and work things out and_ you _made him leave._

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for weeks, Teddy. Where have you been?"

"Right here."

He sighed.

"Okay…I'll try that again. _How_ have you been?"

"Pregnant." It came out before I could stop myself. "Hunt…I'm pregnant."


	2. Chapter 2

I sat next to Owen in the waiting room, staring at the floor while he stared at the ceiling. He'd convinced me to come see him in Seattle after I told him about the baby. He'd always had that power over me. I would follow him anywhere, and he knew it. I had already chased him to Seattle once, what was another time between friends?

"So you're really…"

"Yep."

"Six weeks?"

"Unless this baby is _Jesus_ , yes, Owen, it's been six weeks."

It was the most we had spoken in twenty minutes, and every once in a while, he'd look wildly around the waiting room as though he was expecting someone to notice us in the waiting room full of strangers. If I didn't know damn well where the neuro department was, I would have thought he was looking to make sure Amelia didn't spot us. But we were three floors below her. There was no way.

"I'm sorry," Owen blurted, and he seemed surprised at himself for saying it. "In Germany…you told me that I always tell you when you're being an ass. But you never seem to tell me when _I'm_ being one. I know damn well that you notice it, but I usually have to figure it out for myself."

"Hunt, if I don't train you to become more self-aware, who's going to?"

He laughed and reached over like he was going to hold my hand, but hesitated.

"Is it okay if I—"

I met him halfway and closed my fingers around his.

"I said a lot of the wrong things when I was in Germany and I did a lot of the wrong things to get myself to you. But I don't regret it. Seeing you, I mean."

I looked down at the hand I was holding and couldn't help but notice there was no ring on it.

"What exactly _were_ your intentions that night?" I asked hesitantly.

"I didn't come to sleep with you and then leave, if that's what you're asking."

"That's exactly what I'm asking. I need to know that you didn't show up to get into my pants."

"Ten years ago, I might have," he admitted. "Because I was in a bad place ten years ago and you would have let me get away with it if you thought it might make things a little less bad. That's why I never pursued anything with you. You never would have recovered if I'd used you like that."

"You _idiot_ ," I said with my teeth clenched. "You were _engaged_ —"

"Keep your pants on, I meant _between_ Beth and Cristina."

I took a deep breath.

"They're on. Keep talking."

"I didn't show up in Germany as some kind of grand gesture. I came because you are my best friend and I realized that if I had to choose someone in my life that I couldn't live without, it's you. Every time. The way we act around each other, the way we _talk_ to each other, the way you're close with my mom and an older sister to Megan—that's not nothing. For years, the only person that hasn't noticed I was head over heels for you…it's me.

"So I figured I should hurry. Amelia said go, and I _went_ because you're a catch. For the life of me, I can't figure out how no one snatched you up before Henry. I guess I was just relieved that some other guy hadn't swept you off of your feet yet."

"Just you," I said softly. "Before that night, I haven't been swept _anywhere_ since Henry. My feet have stayed firmly on the ground."

"So that night was good for you, too." He sighed. "Just tell me you don't _actually_ think you're my 'consolation prize.'"

"What am I, then?"

"You are everything."

"And Amelia is…?"

"A friend. Nothing more." He paused. "I haven't slept with her since before Germany. I came back and I just felt…empty. I've never hurt you like that before. I was angry at you for making me leave and angry at myself for letting it happen. I should have fought for you, Teddy. Or…fought harder."

He still hadn't let go of my hand.

"We're having a baby together, Owen. I think we have some things to talk about."

"What is there to talk about? Are you trying to tell me I don't have to be involved if I don't want to? Because I want to. It's you and our baby. I want this. You've been my family for fifteen years."

"How do I know that you'll want to be my family eighteen years from now? When it's time for the baby to go to college? Or twenty-two years from now, if this kid decides to go to med school?"

"I'll prove it to you," he said, squeezing my hand. "I've known you long enough to know that you're not going to trust me if I don't slow down, so we'll take…baby steps. No pun intended."

"Baby steps?"

"I want to take you on a date tonight. I know you're jet lagged and exhausted, but it'll be fun. We'll go to that restaurant downtown, the one that you never learned the actual name of. It has all the twinkly lights. I want a big life with you. But if you're scared of rushing into it, we can have a little life first. Just start with tonight and we'll take it from there. Okay?"

God, he was hard to say no to.

"Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

"Teddy, no, no, no, it's a sweeping motion. Like this."

"Arizona, I love you, but if you tell me it's a sweeping motion _one more time_ —"

"It's not _my_ fault you started doing YouTube tutorials fifteen minutes before Owen was supposed to pick you up. And liquid eyeliner? Are you serious? It's like paint. You're just going to get it everywhere you _don't_ want it. And for the love of God, the combat boots. We _talked about this_. They don't match everything just because they're black. Purple dress. Black flats. And honey, lose the eyeliner. No eye makeup tonight, your dress makes your eyes pop enough already. I—Teddy? Are you…crying?"

Damn hormones.

"I'm _fine_." I looked up and Arizona gasped. "What?"

"Nothing!" she said in a false cheery voice. "Nothing, you just—nothing. I can fix this. Can you hand me those makeup remover wipes— _no, don't look in the mirror yet_! Just…take some deep breaths. Calm down. I'll fix your eyes and then we'll do your foundation again, okay?"

"Which one was that again?"

"The one you thought was sunscreen, even though it was tan."

"Right. I was wondering why you were making me wear that at night. In Seattle."

"It's just to cover the jet lag until you get back and can get some sleep."

"That noticeable, huh?" I laughed as she started taking the evidence of my eyeliner fiasco away. "It's okay. Makeup crisis, wrong shoes, I couldn't get my dress to zip all the way…it can only get better from here, right?"

"There. All fixed. Look in the mirror, I think I did a pretty good job on such short notice."

I took in my reflection—Arizona was right. My skin, which had been ghostly pale all day because of the Tiny Human, was lightly tanned and almost glowing (she had used something called highlighter which, as it turned out, was _not_ an office supply). As much as I hated to admit it, she was right in telling me to skip the eyeliner—my dress alone did all of the work in bringing out the green of my eyes. I had done my own hair, the one thing I wasn't completely incompetent with—it now fell in loose waves that brushed my shoulders.

"You look _incredible_ ," Arizona said.

"I'll go on a date with you next if you want," I teased, walking out of the bathroom and into her living room.

" _WAIT_ ," she called, chasing after me. "Boots off. Flats on. Nice try, I'm not letting you get away with that one."

I had just slipped the second shoe onto my foot when the doorbell rang.

"Your soldier's here." Arizona winked.

"Soldier or baby daddy?"

"Both, I guess. You're not still mad at him, are you? It's been a month and a half."

"I'm always mad at him," I said, straightening myself up and silently thanking everything I could possibly thank that I hadn't been nauseous since the plane ride that morning.

"Wow," Owen said when I opened the door. "I…wow."

"Have her home before midnight, she's _exhausted_ ," Arizona called from the living room.

"You got it, Robbins," Owen said with a smile, taking my hand to walk to his car. I got in the car biting my lip nervously, hoping it was dark enough that he hadn't seen me blushing when he opened the door for me.

"Ready for the twinkly lights? Haven't you been waiting years to go to this place?"

"Life happened," I said, hoping he wouldn't press any further.

"How's work?" he asked, sensing the need to change the subject. "More importantly, how's your roasted chicken place?"

"Both are good," I said. "The Tiny Human isn't a fan of the roasted chicken place, though. Can you believe that?"

"How dare she."

"She?"

"Or he."

I was laughing more easily than I had in weeks, but thinking about Germany felt like someone had dropped several ice cubes down the back of my dress. Just cold enough to hurt like a bitch.

Dinner passed uneventfully—even sitting down, I managed to go weak in the knees every time I caught Owen gazing at me, and I kicked myself mentally for not having more of a guard up against him. Right on cue, my face burned red when he opened the car door for me again as we left. I told him every detail of every work week I'd had since I had seen him last, not even paying attention when he drove right past Arizona's neighborhood.

"Owen, that was—weren't you supposed to turn there?"

"She said to have you back before midnight. I still have five hours and one more stop left to make."

I could hear where he was taking me before I saw it—we were going down to the waterfront, and I felt every nerve in my body go numb as he put his jacket around my shoulders.

"Just in case you forgot how cold Seattle beaches get," he explained.

"I remember," I said, letting him take my hand as we walked to the shore.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"You want to know what my plan is for the baby." I took the pained expression on his face as a sign that I was right. "To be honest, I don't have one. I was hoping you could help me out with that."

"What do you mean? Six weeks ago, you made a speech about the 'big life' you have at MEDCOM. Am I hearing things or are you telling me your life there isn't so big?"

"It's too big," I admitted. "The job is great. The friends…I made them up. I have coworkers who are too afraid of talking to their boss to come within five feet of me. The truth is I've been really lonely for a long time. I kept telling myself I wasn't, because this job is willing to bend over backwards for me. They took my research, they were going to let me open a clinic—but the longer I've stayed, the more restless I've gotten. When you came to see me, you looked more like home than anything I'd seen since I flew here to see Megan. And when you left, I kept looking for reasons to not be there anymore. I don't have a biological family to come back to, you know that. The only reason I haven't _felt_ like an only child has been because I've had you and Megan for most of my life. But I figured you wouldn't want to see me after I closed the door in your face without giving you enough time to put your shoes on. LA is at least on the west coast, but Megan and Nathan would never let me hear the end of it if I showed up after kicking you out."

"You thought you were trapped."

"Exactly. Until I was sitting on my bathroom floor with three positive pregnancy tests."

"Do you think that was a sign?"

"For me to get the hell out of Germany? Absolutely. First of all, there isn't a child in the world that would get through having me as a single mother unscathed. Not one. I get scared when I think about having kids. Scared that they'll grow up and join the military like we did, and we'll lose them the way we lost our guys. I would be supportive, but Owen…it's worse when it's your child. It _has_ to be. And when I lose things, when I lose people, I get angry and bitter and I replace sleep with coffee until I'm asleep at the nurses' station using a bunch of charts as a pillow and I fell down a rabbit hole with Henry and—"

"Teddy, breathe."

I was crying again. I hadn't been able to tell while I was talking, but I could feel the tears on my face now that Owen's hand was around my arm to ground me again.

"This baby needs both of us, okay? I cannot raise this child on my own."

"You don't have to. I'm _here_."

He reached out and let his hand brush my shoulder, pulling me into a tight hug, and I let myself collapse into him. I knew what he was doing—the pressure of his arms around me had calmed panic attack after panic attack in the past.

 _Would you look at that_ , I thought, _still works._

"And you need to be with your child," I said after a minute, his shoulder muffling the sound of my voice.

"What?" He pulled me back.

"All you've wanted since we left Iraq was to settle down and have a family. If you give me about 32 business weeks—I can't take that away from you. You just can't leave, okay? You have to promise me that you won't leave. We need you to be in this."

"We?"

"I'm speaking on behalf of myself and the tiny human who won't be able to talk in full sentences for a year or two."

"I am in this," he insisted. "For you and the tiny human."

"You have a big heart and it's one of my favorite things about you. It just makes you do crazy things sometimes. And I—we—can't do crazy right now."

He bent down and kissed my forehead, the only part of my face that he knew I wouldn't object to him kissing if I was upset.

"No crazy. I promise."

"So what do we do now? I resign from my job and move home and we go from there?"

"Move in with me."

I stepped back, twisting to free myself from his arms.

"What did I _just_ say about crazy?"

"We don't have to act like a married couple immediately. Roommates first? Roommates that go on dates sometimes?"

I laughed nervously. "You really want more dates after this?"

He kissed my forehead again.

"I want a lifetime."

We didn't speak the rest of the way back to the car, but there was a definite shift in the atmosphere between us. We were not back to normal, but we'd had some kind of breakthrough. And it had drained the life out of me.

Owen drove like he was guarding something, much slower and more carefully than he had before, and I leaned against the window and let myself drift off. In and out of dreams, I felt the car stop, and a minute later, Owen's arms reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt and lift me up. Before I could even stop myself, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"What the hell did you _do_ to her?" Arizona hissed as she opened the door.

"Nothing," Owen said defensively. "We just…it's been a rough night. Emotionally. Do you mind if I stay here with her? Just until she wakes up and I know she's okay, and then I'll be out of your hair, I promise."

"Fine," Arizona said. "But I want you gone before Sofia gets up."

"Deal," Owen said, and I snuggled even closer into his chest.

He tucked me into bed, almost as if I were, I realized, his wife. And since I was supposed to be _completely_ asleep, I didn't fight it when he got in bed next to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. It didn't feel weird or unnatural. It was the kind of affection I hadn't gotten from anyone since Henry. His arms were strong, but not overbearing. He was safe, and I fell asleep faster and more easily than I had in weeks.

He felt _good_.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke up the next morning completely disoriented, unsure of where I was or how I had gotten to be there. My last memory of the night before was Owen carrying me into Arizona's house, but anything beyond that could very easily have been a dream. I was tangled up in sheets and blankets, fully aware of Owen's body snuggled against mine. He was awake, but his arm was still wrapped tightly around me and his lips were just barely brushing against my hair.

He had really stayed _all night_.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he murmured, leaning his head down and kissing my shoulder.

"You're still here?"

"Where else would I be?"

"I don't know…work? Your own house?"

He laughed. "Day off. And I asked Robbins if I could stay with you. She said I had to either leave or hide by the time Sofia got up for school, so that she wouldn't ask questions, but I was allowed to stay because you slept through all of that by…um…a bit."

I sat up, looking wildly around for my phone to check the time.

"It's almost ten," Owen said. "You slept for almost fourteen hours. I'm not going to lie, that's pretty impressive for you. Sometimes, I forget you even know _how_ to sleep."

"The tiny human needs me to keep the caffeine to a minimum. Sleep is one of my greatest skills now."

"It _is_ amazing," he said, starting to gently run his finger over my shoulder in small circles, "what wonderful things can happen when you don't have caffeine coursing through your veins."

I looked at him with one raised eyebrow—something that he had come to know as _The Look_ over the years—and ran my fingers through my hair, cringing when I realized that the curls on one side of my head were crushed where I had slept on them.

"Stop." Owen tugged my hand back down. "You're beautiful. And I've got to say, it's cute watching you get all self-conscious about what your hair looks like in the morning, just because I spent the night. I've seen you in the morning before, Altman. Remember? In the _desert_?"

"Iraq doesn't count and you know it," I said, shoving him playfully. "And this is the first time you've spent the night _for real_ that hasn't ended in us screaming at each other. I don't want to scare you away."

"If you're worried about scaring me away, I'd look at your face. You didn't take your makeup off last night and things shifted."

" _What?_ "

I leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom to get a good look in the mirror.

"Made you look," Owen called.

"I hate you so much."

"You love me. Now would you get _dressed_? I have plans for today that don't involve you wearing last night's clothes. No matter how gorgeous you look in them."

"You do, do you?"

"Robbins is at work. We can't just stay here and do nothing. We're going out." He paused. "Wait. How are you feeling?"

My hand unconsciously came to rest on my stomach.

"A little shaky, but I'm doing okay. Right?" I added to the baby, who, I remembered, _still could not hear me_.

"Good."

He opened my suitcase and put leggings and a sweater on my lap, turning to walk out of the room.

"Owen, wait," I called.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure about this? I don't want to be a complete letdown if we go out to do something fun and it ends in you holding my hair back. The tiny human is a little unpredictable sometimes. It's why I haven't logged a lot of OR time the past couple weeks."

"You're not a letdown," he said, looking at me with a pitying expression that I'd seen him wear _far_ too many times. "Besides, 'out' means my house. I just got a waffle iron."

"Congratulations, I think?" I teased. "Is that the most exciting thing to happen to you this month? Really?"

"If you stop making fun of me and _for the love of God, get dressed_ , I'll tell you where the whipped cream is."

"Deal."

I slipped the purple dress off, and pulled on the leggings and sweater, conscious of Owen gazing at my stomach—he was _absolutely_ looking for a bump, however tiny it might be. And even though he swore I wouldn't be a letdown, I pulled my half-crumpled curls into a ponytail, just in case.

I tried my hardest to get to the car door before Owen, but he somehow still beat me to it, and at this point, my face knew the drill.

"You're pretty damn cute when you're blushing," he said as I buckled my seatbelt.

"Matches your hair," I fired back.

"Cheap shot, Altman. What are you going to do if our kid's not blonde?"

"Relax, I'm messing with you. God, we are going to have the _cutest_ kid. Blonde or not."

"Damn straight."

He absentmindedly took one hand off of the steering wheel and closed his fingers around mine. From an outsider's perspective, we probably looked like husband and wife, and for the first time since he had shown up at my door in Germany, I was okay with that.

"Get ready," Owen said as we pulled into his driveway, "for what might be the weirdest waffles you've ever had. I've never used this thing before."

"Only you would find a way to screw up putting batter in a waffle iron."

He held my hand as we walked through the door, and I tried to imagine myself living there with him. In a perfect world, a puppy would be running to meet us at the door. We would have a swing set in the backyard for when the tiny human got to be a little less tiny—but no way in hell would we have a mini-van. Family pictures would cover every single wall. California would be our usual vacation spot—for Disneyland _and_ Megan.

But the farther into the house we walked, the more uneasy I got, until I froze just outside the kitchen.

"What? Are you okay?" Owen asked, setting the waffle iron on the counter and rushing back over to me. "Is this a baby thing or a _you_ thing?"

"It's a me thing," I said softly. "I see her everywhere."

"Who? Are you pulling some _Sixth Sense_ crap on me? Do you see dead people? Because if you see dead people, we're moving."

"If the person's not dead, can we still move?"

He took both of my hands in his and pulled me into a hug, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Amelia?"

"I'm trying to ignore it. I promise. But all of these things that we have now—you wanted them with her at one point in your life, and I know you don't want it with her now. But that kind of thing just…it lingers, you know? I can picture her here with you. The image in my head right now…it's not pretty."

His lips came to rest on mine—the first time we had kissed like that since Germany.

"We'll move. We'll move anywhere you want. I said I would move across the world for you. That's still true. I have nothing attaching me to this house right now. You know what I'm attached to now?"

He pressed his hand flat against my stomach.

"You. And the baby. I'm attached to my _family_."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He laughed. "You look like you're about to cry. Come here, I want to show you something."

I followed him into the kitchen.

"Close your eyes."

"Owen, what the hell is so special about a waffle iron that I have to close my eyes for it?"

"Just do it. Trust me."

I made a point of rolling my eyes at him before I closed them, and for good reason—my eyes hadn't been closed longer than a couple seconds before he blasted me in the face with whipped cream

" _OWEN!_ "

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You're kind of an easy target," he said, handing me a paper towel.

"You said you'd tell me where it was, not start an attack with it."

"Same difference," he said with a shrug. "Hey, are you sure you're okay? Your whole face just went white as a sheet."

"I'm—just give me a second—I just need to take some deep breaths and I'll be okay. This happens—every day. I'm actually starting to get used to it."

"Is _this_ a baby thing?"

I nodded and put one hand on the counter to steady myself—my legs felt weak and shaky, almost numb. Miracle baby or not, morning sickness was a bitch, and our tiny human wasn't exactly known for its great timing.

"Come here," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "I've got you, it's okay."

He half-carried me down the hall, setting me down gently on the bathroom floor and sitting on the edge of the bathtub next to me. I leaned against his leg, closing my eyes and fighting the urge to cry.

"This happens every day?"

"Every day. I have about six weeks of it left, according to the books I've read. In most cases it stops around week twelve."

"So you're like…Superwoman."

"Hunt. _Wonder_ Woman. Super _girl_. We've _talked_ about this."

"Nerd."

I gave him the best smile that I could under the circumstances, and hugged his leg like a child.

"Don't you have a waffle iron to get back to?"

"Waffles can wait until you're feeling better."

"You don't have to stay with me for this, you know. My hair's in a ponytail, so it's not like you need to hold it for me or anything."

"I know it is," he said, bending down to kiss the top of my head. "I was going to rub your back instead."


	5. Chapter 5

I spent the majority of the next three days wrapped up in Owen's arms, completely forgetting that I wasn't a permanent resident of Seattle yet. I left Arizona's house after the first night to stay with him, with the promise of going back on my last night to watch princess movies with her and Sofia, who, although she didn't remember me from the times Callie and Arizona had taken her to work before I'd moved, had warmed up enough to curl up in my lap with her bowl of popcorn. I stroked her hair absentmindedly, pretended to ignore Arizona taking pictures of us and blowing up my phone with Facebook notifications, and wished that I had fought harder with Callie to Skype with her more often. She was a year old when I'd left. I could have watched her start to grow up. Maybe she'd know me better. Who would have guessed that I'd be needing all the baby time I could get?

 _You two look comfy_ , Arizona texted from the other side of the couch. _Just think, this will be you in a few years. How does Owen feel about princess movies?_

 _Honestly?_ I typed back. _He probably knows more about them than I do. He grew up with Megan and a mostly stable home life. I grew up with two parents who were against gender stereotypes, a ban on princess movies, and no siblings. He'd be all over the cuddles though. That's all we've been doing for the past few days. Add a baby to that and he might just melt._

 _You're lucky_ , she responded. _That baby is going to have the BEST dad. And I guess you're pretty great, too. That sucks about the vendetta against princesses, though. You missed out. Sofia ADORES you, by the way. She doesn't want you to go to Germany, even though I promised you were coming right back._

Unconsciously, I held Sofia a little tighter.

 _I don't want to go back, so that makes two of us._

"Bedtime, baby girl," Arizona said as the credits started. "Hey, which princess was your favorite?"

Sofia slid off of my lap and stood up to follow Arizona upstairs.

"Rapunzel," she said with a smile. "From Tangled. She looked like Aunt Teddy."

"That," Arizona said, "is the ultimate compliment. Trust me. We watched Frozen and I _always_ ask if I can be Elsa, and she always says no. Even when I braid my hair."

"Because you do two braids," Sofia argued. "Elsa only has one."

"I'll do one braid next time, I promise. Sof, wait," she called. "Goodbye hugs, remember?"

Sofia turned around from where she had started to go up to bed and launched herself into my lap.

"Come home soon, okay? You haven't seen all the princesses yet."

"I will. I promise."

I watched Arizona take her hand and go upstairs with her, and my hand unconsciously came to rest on my stomach. In eight years, that could be my own family. But in eight years, Owen and I would also be pushing fifty, so I shook that thought away with a laugh. We would cross _that_ bridge when we came to it.

"I wish you'd been around when she was a toddler," Arizona said as she came back downstairs. "I know you Skyped with us, but it wasn't the same. That's such a fun age. You and Owen are going to have such a great time. Wait. You and Owen are a thing now, right?"

"We're not a thing," I answered, "but we're not _not_ a thing."

"Do you think he's going to propose? Eventually, I mean. Not right away. Poor Owen, marrying women has kind of become his trademark. You're different, though. Whether he's known it all this time or not, I think you're everything he's ever wanted. And I _know_ you want him. That's how we became friends, remember? When I wanted you to stare at something besides his face? That was our first girls' night."

"And here we are ten years later, and I'm still staring at his face."

"Teddy, he loves you." Arizona's voice dropped to a more serious tone. "At work the past few days…you have no idea how long it's been since he looked this happy. For what it's worth, I think you can trust him."

"So…moving in with him right away. It won't be a mistake?"

"You say that like you haven't been a married couple since the day you met. You're going to be _fine_ living together. Hey, you get to call yourself _Owen Hunt's girlfriend_. You've wanted _that_ for longer than I've known you."

"True," I said, laughing. "He was just always involved when I was available. This is the first time that we've both been single at the same time; can you believe that?"

Before Arizona could answer, the doorbell rang, interrupting us—Owen was supposed to pick me up on his way home from work.

"Hi, ladies," he said as Arizona opened the door for him. "Robbins, how was movie night?"

"Good! Sofia decided that Teddy's her favorite princess. I'd call that a success."

"Princess, huh? So that makes you…Princess Desert Storm Barbie?"

"Hey," I fired back. " _Doctor_ Princess Desert Storm Barbie."

"Okay, _Doctor Princess Desert Storm Barbie_. Are you ready to go home yet? I want you to get some sleep before you fly back tomorrow."

I stood up and Arizona pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Thanks for coming back to me. It's lonely here without you."

I felt my eyes fill with tears as she gave me one last squeeze, but I did not let them fall—I was nowhere near far enough into the pregnancy to give in to the hormones that easily. Instead, I forced a smile, took Owen's outstretched hand, and walked with him to the car.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're not thrilled to be going back to Germany," he said as he backed out of Arizona's driveway.

"What was your first clue?"

"Just think of all the things you're going to have to look forward to. Would that make it easier? You have to get through the next three weeks. You'll be packing, finishing up work, calling me if you get bored…it'll be over before you know it. You can do that, right?"

I soon found out that it was easier said than done. My Attachment Barbie past had come back to haunt me. I spent the rest of that night sleeping so lightly that Owen's breathing kept waking me up. I had spent four days in Seattle feeling more at home and more loved than I had in years. Affectionate by nature, it had been hard for me to spend six years in Germany with no one close to me, no one I could reach out and feel next to me in the middle of the night if I felt alone. For three nights, I had fallen asleep with Owen holding me close, and for the life of me, I didn't know how I was going to sleep without him when I got back.

He drove me to the airport the next morning, pretending not to notice that I was a hormonal mess. It was harder to leave knowing that he wanted me to stay as much as I did. We walked in silence to the entrance of the security line—I was terrified that if I tried to speak, I would start to cry.

"Three weeks," Owen said, leaning down to kiss me. "We can do this. You'll have a _tiny_ little baby bump when you get back. We can start looking at houses and arguing over names and paint colors for the nursery. We've got this."

"We've got this," I whispered, leaning into his chest for one more hug and closing my eyes. He held on tight to me, and rested his lips on the top of my head.

"You go and you be great," he whispered back, and the tears that had been taunting me all morning finally spilled over. He _always_ said that when I left. "And then come back to me."

I tilted my head up to kiss him again and then he was gone, and I was in the airport alone. My phone buzzed as soon as he was out of sight:

 _Hey, you. Have a good flight. Miss you already._

 _You and I_ , I typed back, _are NEVER living in separate countries again. Please. Not EVER. Deal?_

 _Deal._

I had just put my phone away when he texted one more time:

 _Btw. You're starting to get pregnancy brain. I thought that was a myth until you put your passport in the refrigerator yesterday morning. Passport is in the outside pocket of your purse. I HOPE your phone is in your hand. For some reason, you got your sunglasses back out last night and put them on top of my dresser. They're the yellow ones that you love, so I know damn well you'll be pissed if you don't have them. They're back in their case, in your suitcase. SLEEP on the plane. It'll be morning in Germany when you land. This should make the jet lag easier to deal with. Call me when you're on the ground. I don't care what time it is in Seattle. Call me. Love you._

 _Don't know what I'd do without you_ , I said, adding an eye roll emoji for good measure. _Love you, too._

I did as I was told, and rested my head against the window with my eyes closed until we landed in Germany. Owen was right—the sunrise was blinding and I was still exhausted, but sleep had helped.

"Good morning—I think," Owen said when, as I promised I would, I called him.

"Morning's an understatement. You should see the sun right now. Let's just say that I'm glad you found my sunglasses."

"And now you have the whole day ahead of you."

"Whole day ahead of me to resign from MEDCOM and start packing," I said. "And call my real estate agent. I am _so_ glad this place came furnished. This makes my life so much easier."

"How do you feel?"

"Slightly better than the day we made waffles. Worse than when you dropped me off at the airport."

"Do you want me to come see you? I can get someone to cover my shifts and come take care of you."

"I'm fine. I promise. You said it yourself, it's only three weeks. Do you really want me getting _that_ clingy? I thought my independence was something you always loved."

"It is," he admitted. "You are independent with attachment issues. You are truly a mystery to me."

"I can't believe you're making fun of me while I'm a whole ocean away."

"I'll keep making fun of you when you come back. You don't have to worry about that _at all_."

"Shouldn't you be going to bed?"

"I just wanted to check on you one more time."

"We made it six years. We can make it three more weeks," I said, hanging up with one final "love you." But I wasn't so sure. I got back to my apartment, opened the door, and was smacked in the face with how little it looked like home now. I had been so proud of how I had decorated it—everything was modern and color coordinated and I had Skyped Owen as soon as I had finished to show it off. But it looked wrong. It looked _lonely_. It had never been more obvious that I was the only one who had ever lived there.

I still had time before I left for work, so I grabbed my pink blanket and went right back to the window where Owen and I had watched the snow, and it was all I could do not to call him back right then.

 _Are you still up?_ I texted instead. I didn't want to call if he wasn't.

 _Yeah. Are you okay?_

 _I'm on the couch by the window. It's not snowing anymore. And this blanket is too big for one person._

 _Well, yeah, of course it is. It was on your BED. Is this secret code for 'I miss you?'_

 _Maybe._

 _You're impossible_ , he answered. _But I miss you, too._


	6. Chapter 6

Just as Owen had promised, the next three weeks flew by in a rush of packing, tying up loose ends at work, and saying forced goodbyes to people who most likely didn't even know my first name. I said goodbye to the apartment that I had grown ridiculously tired of living in, and got on my plane home, where, once I landed, Owen swept me into a hug so big I was lifted off of my feet.

"Oh my god," he said softly.

"What is it? Makeup? Hair? Am I wearing two different shoes?"

He shook his head and ran his hand down my abdomen where, sure enough, the tiniest hint of a bump was finally visible.

"Oh, _that_ ," I said, winking at him. "Yeah, that happened pretty suddenly. All my clothes fit normally last week, and then I woke up a couple days ago and nothing would zip."

He seemed to be at a loss for words, and I didn't blame him. He just kept his hand where it was for a moment, and then wrapped me up in another hug. I knew exactly what he was thinking. This experience was something he had given up on having with _anyone_. He was taking in every single moment of it.

"Oh, hey, we need to go," he said after a minute. "Robbins gets off work in an hour but she said if you wanted to come in and do an ultrasound today, she'd stay for us. We should be able to hear the heartbeat by now."

I agreed enthusiastically, but for the entire car ride to the hospital, I was focused on my own heartbeat, which was faster than I wanted it to be.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Owen asked, reaching over the center console to take my hand.

"I am a cardio goddess, remember? I don't get nervous."

He slid his hand up to my wrist.

"Tell that to your pulse."

"This is just getting really _real_ , okay? I mean, what if I'm horrible at this? What if I end up being the worst mother in the world?"

"You're going to see that heartbeat and change your mind. I promise," Owen said as he pulled into a parking spot. "And if you don't, I'll be here to help you until you do."

He took my hand and we walked together to Arizona's office, where I was nearly tackled with one of her overenthusiastic hugs the second we went in the door.

"Look at you," she said, staring at my abdomen just as Owen had in the airport. "Ready to hear that heartbeat?"

I nodded—my throat had gone too tight to speak.

"She's a little nervous," Owen whispered to Arizona. I gave him The Look and his face flushed; he hadn't realized that I had heard him.

"Nothing to be nervous about," Arizona said. "Get ready, the gel is cold."

I flinched slightly when the gel hit my skin, and Owen put his hand on my shoulder. I leaned over and rested my head against his arm.

"Am I supposed to buy that you two aren't a couple?" Arizona asked as she began moving the probe around my abdomen. I looked up at Owen—I was going to let him answer that question this time.

"We're—I don't know."

"You don't _know_?" Arizona said, louder this time.

"Don't yell at me," Owen said defensively, turning to look at me. "We're a couple if you want to be a couple. Because I want to be a couple. I want our child to grow up knowing that his or her parents are in a loving, committed relationship."

"After ten years, that's not how I thought you were going to ask me," I said, "but I want that, too. Yes, Arizona, we are a couple."

"About damn time. Ooh, quiet! I found the heartbeat. And right there on the monitor—that little blob that looks like a weirdly shaped walnut? That's your baby."

Owen rested his forehead against my shoulder and, from how hard his arms were shaking, I strongly suspected that he was crying. I was, too, but even though it was blurred from the tears, I couldn't take my eyes off of the monitor. Not for one second. I reached one arm out, the one that Owen wasn't holding, and let my fingers brush the screen.

"That's our baby," I whispered.

"What did I tell you?" Owen said. "You feel better, don't you?"

"Way better," I admitted.

"Still think you're going to be the worst mother in the world?"

Arizona gave him a look that reminded me a little too much of my trademarked Look.

"Really, Hunt? Worst mother in the world?"

"Hey, she said it, not me," Owen argued. "And I will have you know that I disagreed with her."

I leaned against his chest and closed my eyes, and he stroked my hair absentmindedly.

"Here are your pictures," Arizona said, handing us copies of the sonogram. "No Facebook yet. Most people don't say anything until at least twelve weeks, and with your age—no, Teddy, I am _not_ saying you're old, you and I are the same age—there's a chance that your pregnancy is going to be a little riskier than some. You have _nothing_ to worry about right now. I'd say just wait until around fourteen weeks to tell everyone, just to be safe."

"Does Arizona think I'm going to miscarry?" I asked Owen as we got back into his car.

"She's just making sure you have all of the information. It's possible, but it's possible for _everyone_. She was just reminding us that we're human. That's all. Try not to think about it. We don't have anything to worry about."

"For now," I said softly.

"Happy thoughts."

He put the car in drive and, out of habit, reached for my hand.

"What if I can't do happy thoughts right now? Every time something in my life has gone right, it's blown up in my face. Do you know how many times I've had to stand back and watch as my life fell apart in front of my eyes? Too many. I had Eve as my best friend. Then 9/11 came and I lost her. I met you, and had you as my best friend. And then we lost Megan for a while in Iraq, and because of that, I lost you, too. We _all_ lost you. I came here, almost lost my job because I _sneezed_. Remember when Derek was going to fire me because I was sick and sneezed in surgery? The fishhook patient? Wasn't that fun? Then what? The shooting. Then I found Andrew, lost Andrew. Found Henry, took an _eternity_ to realize I loved him. And what happened? I lost him, too. And then I left after being pissed at you for _months_. I've been lonely for six _years_. And now I have an actual family for the first time in God only knows how long. I have you and you're my best friend and my boyfriend and my baby's father and I _can't lose this_. Owen, I can't lose anything else. It'll destroy me."

"You _won't_ ," he insisted. "You're meeting with Bailey about a permanent contract in, what, a week? That's seven days that you have to come up with a plan for how you're going to take care of yourself. She was working almost the whole time she was pregnant with Tuck. She'll work with you. I promise. She's flexible. And you'll be working with Pierce. You'll be a team; she won't let you overwork yourself. And as far as losing me goes—you won't. Not ever. Try to take some deep breaths, okay? You said the word 'and' too many times in one sentence, that's how I know you're panicking."

He let go of my hand to spin the steering wheel around and back into the driveway.

"How about we unpack later? So you can lie down for a little bit?"

"Owen, I'm _fine_ ," I insisted, but I knew it was useless to fight him on it. I hadn't slept at all on the plane, which was the equivalent of pulling an all-nighter since my body was still running on German time.

"Two hours," he suggested. "Two hours and then we can unpack. Or not. We can watch movies instead. We can do whatever you want. Just give me two hours. Please? For the baby?"

"For the baby," I agreed, following him into his bedroom.

"I'll stay with you," he said. "I was at work overnight. I'm exhausted, too."

He pulled the covers back so I could curl up underneath them, and I closed my eyes the second I felt his arms wrap around me. His touch was the most relaxing thing I had felt since we left the hospital.

"Hey," Owen whispered suddenly. I knew he wasn't talking to me—I was, after all, supposed to be trying to sleep. His hands found the tiny bump on my abdomen and I knew immediately what he was doing—he was talking to the baby. Trying to, anyway—according to the books, he still had two months before the baby's ears would develop.

"I don't know if you can even hear me yet. It's your dad. I can't wait to meet you. Seven months seems like such a long time, but we'll be holding you before you know it. Your mom can't wait either. She's a little nervous. She's…a _lot_ nervous. But you're going to love her.

She might embarrass you a little bit sometimes. She sings along to the radio when she's in a good mood…pretty loudly. She claims her voice is horrible, but that's crap. She's incredible. She…um…unironically knows all of the words to We Didn't Start the Fire. Don't hold that one against her. She memorized it in Iraq _just_ because someone told her that they didn't think she could do it. Your mother is stubborn as hell. And she's never been able to forget the words, so she will _absolutely_ drive you insane with it someday.

What else? Oh. She's freakishly organized. I don't know how she does it. Years in the military, I guess. There's a chance that you might fight with her whenever she tells you to keep your room clean, but she means well. The house is going to look like no one lives in it. It'll be _that_ clean, all the time. And I'll help—I'm not as much of a mess as she thinks I am.

If she had her way, we'd have ten puppies. Ten is a lot, especially with our jobs, but she's wanted a dog since we got home from Iraq. She almost got one _years_ ago, and ended up getting a goldfish instead. And the goldfish died under mysterious circumstances. I _might_ have forgotten that I agreed to take care of it one of the times that she and Henry went away on a weekend trip. I still feel guilty. I'm not just going to not let her have a dog. Maybe we can even have two. Just not ten.

She gives the greatest hugs in the world. You are _always_ going to want one of those hugs if you have a rough day. She will hold you _so_ tight, and she won't let go until you feel better. She moved away for six years because of me, and not a day went by that I didn't want one of those hugs. You're kind of screwed when you go to college. You're going to miss her.

And I hope you get her eyes. There's nothing wrong with blue eyes, but hers are the color of…I don't even know what. They're green, but deeper than normal people's green eyes. I could just stare at them all day, every day. Forget that I have a job, I want to look into Teddy's eyes.

I don't know why I'm saying all of this. I'm pretty sure your ears haven't developed yet. So…we'll talk in a few months. Just go easy on her. She loves us both, more than she can even put into words. Your mom's greatest fear is losing the people she loves. And she's lost a lot of people before. I need to give her reasons to believe she won't lose you, too. Can you help me out with that? Give her an easy pregnancy?"

He paused for the first time since he'd started talking, and sighed.

"I love you," he whispered. "Both of you."

He put his arms around me the way he had when I had spent those three nights with him before, and as his breathing got deeper and more even, I knew he had fallen asleep. I had stayed perfectly still with one hand clamped over my mouth—I had been crying the whole time he was talking, and I knew that he would have stopped to check on me if he had heard it. I twisted myself around in his arms slightly so that I could roll over and make sure he was completely asleep, and he was.

"I love you, too," I whispered back. "Both of you."


	7. Chapter 7

The next few weeks, Owen and I learned something important—the less my clothes fit, the faster time flew. As he promised I would, I got settled in Seattle to the point where some days, I'd forget I ever left. My transition into the staff wasn't entirely seamless though—I could feel people's eyes on me in the halls, searching me up and down, focusing in on the bump that was just _barely_ noticeable under my scrubs, and then traveling down to my left hand. I knew what they were doing. They were, without a doubt, looking for a ring. But I didn't have the time or the patience to explain that my life had _always_ been a little unorthodox, if not completely insane. Since Henry, this was the closest thing to normal that I had ever been a part of.

When Owen wasn't around, I stayed as close as I could to Arizona, but my greatest fear was never something I had to worry about. Amelia Shepherd, though she took some time to get used to the idea of me being around permanently, had warmed up to me. We weren't _friends_ , exactly. But that would come in time. We were friendly. Her smiles in the halls were genuine, and not _once_ did I dread seeing her at work. She was one of the first to find out about the baby and although her initial "congratulations!" seemed forced, she was happy that Owen was happy, and trusted me enough to let me see some of her clinical trial. On an especially bad day when the staring hit its peak and Owen and Arizona weren't around, she pulled me into her office and told me about her superhero pose. I was embarrassed the first time, but it was nice to have someone looking at me like I wasn't a complete outsider.

Outside of work, Owen and I were in an adjustment phase. We were roommates who occasionally went on dates, then we were roommates who changed their Facebook statuses to 'in a relationship,' and then we were roommates buying their first house together.

We were fully aware that we were doing every part of our relationship backwards, but it took us no time at all to fall in love with the house. The back porch was covered, so I would be able to sit outside and watch storms come in—the one strange habit of mine that Owen never understood. The living room ceiling was absurdly high—the one part of it that I wasn't sure about—but Owen told me it was to fit an absurdly high Christmas tree, and I didn't say another word about it. The room adjacent to ours was painted sea-foam green and I was drawn to it immediately—it was the one and only shade of green that didn't remind me of our army uniforms, and I could so easily visualize a crib in the corner, and one of those cheesy "dream big, little one" signs on the wall. It was a color for the future, keeping us from living in the past.

"What do you think?" Owen asked, coming up behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders.

"I think…it looks like home," I said, leaning back to rest my head on his chest.

The next few weeks flew by in a blur of packing and shopping and paperwork, with one more doctor's appointment the night before we officially moved.

"This is it," Arizona said with a smile, getting the monitor ready. "Week fourteen. Ready to start making announcements? For the people who don't see you every day, I mean. Megan, Nathan, and your mom, right?"

Owen nodded and squeezed my shoulder, but I could feel my face fall.

He kissed the side of my head gently.

"Hey. We're ready, right?" he whispered.

"I…yeah, of course we are," I said, forcing a smile.

The cold, hard truth was that I was nowhere near ready. I was, putting it nicely, spooked. At forty-two, I wasn't old. Not even a little bit. My age was not causing the baby any harm. But as Owen knew perfectly well, I was a doctor's worst nightmare as a patient, and had a tendency to spend shocking amounts of time preparing for disaster. I had lost enough patients in my career that I was haunted by extreme circumstances. I had stood by and watched as people lived through them, and then, just when I had finally started to believe that medical miracles were possible, that I didn't _need_ to be skeptical of every little thing that crossed my path, I lost my husband to the same kind of extreme circumstance. I lived through it myself and could do nothing but watch as I turned into a horror-show of a person. I was a shell of who I had been, from the moment I learned exactly how fast loved ones could be lost. And this tiny person inside me was no exception. One wrong move, and I could lose everything. So I prepared. I quit caffeine cold-turkey and muscled through the pounding headaches that came with it. I stopped wearing my sky-high heels, out of fear that I'd roll an ankle and fall flat on my face if I took one wrong step. I did everything short of wrapping my entire torso in bubble wrap, and Owen either hadn't noticed or had decided not to say anything. If I had to guess, he had just decided to stay quiet. After all these years, he knew better than to question some of the things I did. This was more than likely one of those situations.

"Everything looks great. Let's see that baby," Arizona said, snapping me out of the clouds that my head had gotten completely lost in. She moved the wand around my abdomen, and I felt the tears start to sting my eyes as the tiny human appeared on the monitor. Its heartbeat had only gotten stronger, and in the past week, I had started to feel like maybe, _just maybe_ , it was starting to move around. This feeling was confirmed the longer I stared at the screen—my tiny human stretched out one little leg and I grabbed Owen's arm as I felt the flutter.

"Did you _feel_ that?" he asked, completely unable to take his eyes off of the screen, even for a second. My throat was too tight to speak, so I just nodded and leaned against him, for once in my life not caring that my tears were already soaking into his shirt. He pressed his lips into my hair and I completely unraveled in his arms.

"I'll give you two a minute, okay?" Arizona asked, pausing the monitor and leaving the room.

The door closed behind her, but we didn't move. I closed my fingers around the fabric of Owen's shirt and he leaned over to sit next to me and wrap his arms around my shoulders. His right arm was trapped from how hard I was holding onto him, but his left was slowly rubbing my back, up and down, almost hypnotically.

"This," he said, as we got into his car to go home, "might be the longest since I met you that you've gone without talking."

"We're parents," I said softly, buckling my seatbelt and resting one hand where I could feel it if the baby started fluttering again.

"You're just figuring this out?"

"I didn't think this would ever be something I'd get to experience. I lost Henry and then I moved to Germany and I thought that was it. My 'baby' was my work. I gave up on being a mom _years_ ago. Even when I found out I was pregnant, I didn't think that's what was happening to me. I thought I had food poisoning or something. I didn't think I would ever…" my voice trailed off.

"You thought being a widow was your own endgame?" Owen finished for me, and I nodded in agreement.

"I kicked you out and you went home and I thought that was it. That I had burned every bridge I had ever built and that I would have to start over _again_."

"What made you think being pregnant was a possibility?"

"I was late. I'm never late. Even my body runs on a military clock."

Without taking his eyes off of the road, Owen reached over and put his hand on top of mine.

"I thought I lost you, too," he said softly. "And it's been long enough that I'm not sure how to function without you around. For what it's worth, I'm glad you came home. Baby or no baby, I would have welcomed you back with open arms."

"Would you have wanted a relationship if you hadn't already knocked me up?"

My heart started to pound—this was the last answer I needed, and the one I was most afraid to hear.

"Of course."

"Promise?"

"Promise. We just would have gone in order if you hadn't been pregnant. I want a big life and I want it with you. If we'd ended up going in order, don't you think we would have had a baby in a couple years?"

For one fleeting moment, I wished that this was how it had worked out, but the baby fluttered underneath my hand as Owen pulled into the driveway, and tears filled my eyes again—I would choose this experience every time.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" he asked as we walked into the house.

"Go for it," I said, sitting down and positioning myself on the couch so that Owen could lean his head on me to feel the fluttering for himself.

"Why are you so afraid of losing this baby? I know you, Teddy. I saw your face the _entire_ time we were in Arizona's office, and I _know_ you think something is starting to go wrong. But you're also one of those people…you take the crap life hands you and make the most out of it, every single time. You are the one person I know who always has a bright side to look on. The baby's healthy. You're healthy. But I haven't seen you this on edge in years. If there's something going on, can you tell me how I can help you?"

"No. Because I don't think you can," I said softly. Every muscle in his body stopped moving—I had not noticed that he was absentmindedly tracing slow circles on my abdomen with his hand until he wasn't doing it anymore.

"We're in this together. You and me. Why can't I help you?"

"If I can't help myself, I don't see how anyone else can. Believe me, if I thought you could fix this, I'd want you to. I just…what would you say if I told you I'd already lost a baby?"

"I would say I already knew. Who do you think stayed with you until you woke up?"

"Absolutely no one," I shot back. "I woke up to an empty room and left to be with Henry. He was having a tumor resection procedure at the same time. I didn't want him to wake up and think that I was gone, so I signed a paper saying I was leaving against medical advice, put my scrubs back on, and waited in his room. No one was with me for that."

"I got paged. You were asleep still. I just didn't want you to have to go through that alone. I would have stayed longer, but I wasn't who you needed then. You needed your husband. And I wasn't…I was in the right place at the wrong time."

I reached down to squeeze his shoulder, but his hand caught mine before I could get there.

"I know everything is perfect right now," I said softly. "but you know my life as well as I do. Everything tends to fall apart at the last second. I never get to be happy and _stay_ happy. It makes me uncomfortable when I go a long time without my life trying to implode on itself. I'm waiting for something to go wrong because I've never known anything else."

"So you're waiting for disaster out of habit."

"Exactly."

"What if _I_ told _you_ that that's not something you have to worry about this time around? Would you believe me?"

I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair.

"I'd want to. God, I'd want to so badly. But you know me. You know I like to have proof before I start believing in things."

"That doesn't explain where you stand on Santa Claus _whatsoever_ ," Owen joked.

"First of all, _I will have you know_ that my parents never did the Santa thing with me. I may be obsessed with Christmas but that doesn't mean my family didn't try to ruin it every chance they got. Second of all," I tilted my head to direct what I was saying to the baby, "you have my full permission to kick your daddy in the face when your flutters get stronger if he's going to keep making fun of me."

" _Hey_ ," Owen argued, laughing and sitting up slightly.

"I'm _messing with you_ ," I said, guiding his head back down as he rested it against my abdomen again.

"How about…we take this one day at a time?" he suggested after a minute.

"Baby steps," I said softly.

"Baby steps," he agreed. "Just like I promised when you got home. We'll take this slowly. But I need you to promise to talk to me if something is on your mind."

"Keeping things to myself is a habit, too."

"I know," he said. "You've done it since Iraq. It's not your fault. Your brain is just wired like that. But try for me, okay?

"I will. I promise."

Owen leaned up again and kissed me softly, stroking my hair with the hand that wasn't still positioned waiting for the baby to flutter.

"That's my girl."


	8. Chapter 8

It only took minutes for our new house to feel like a home. We started moving in almost as soon as the sun came up—and no matter how many times I told him not to, Owen insisted upon carrying me across the threshold like something out of an old movie—and by late afternoon, we were snuggled on the couch watching a movie. I was positioned between Owen's legs like I had been next to the window in Germany, but this time with a pillow between us to keep my back from tensing up. His arms were wrapped around me, with his hands resting gently on my abdomen, waiting patiently for our tiny human's first real kick. I didn't have the heart to tell him that we were still a couple weeks away from when that was supposed to happen—he was so content and peaceful that I just didn't have it in me to mention that the flutters would stay flutters for now.

Stopping to think about it, I was proud of us. Deeply, genuinely proud. When I had first fallen for Owen, we were children. I was thirty when I had realized that I loved him, and back then, I wasn't even sure that what I was feeling was love. It was December and we had just arrived in Iraq, and for the first time in years, it had hit me that I was completely, devastatingly alone. The whole flight over, I had held a picture of Eve, my best friend, so tight that my hand started to ache, so tight that it was as though my life depended on it. I missed her in a way that I didn't know was possible. I kept a picture of her in the pocket of my uniform but the knowledge that it was there weighed so heavily on me that it was all I could do, every single day, not to cry out in pain. And finally, one day, I broke down. I sat outside late at night, still in my uniform, and cried until my head started to spin, so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't feel him sitting next to me.

"Are you…okay?"

He reached one hand out and gently brushed my shoulder.

"Eve," I whimpered.

"No…? Owen. My name's Owen."

His voice was calm, deep, and slow, and something about him pulled me back down to reality.

"Oh my god," I said, brushing the tears off my face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you—I didn't mean to break down in front of—I just—I'm sorry."

I stood up and tried to run for it, but he grabbed my hand.

"You lost someone." It wasn't a question.

"I…yeah. I did," I admitted, cautiously approaching him again. I wasn't afraid of him, but I wasn't sure about opening up to a stranger.

"You don't have to tell me about it," Owen said, as though he had read my mind. "Not unless you feel comfortable."

I sat down next to him again, but farther away than I had been the first time.

"Is that her?" He motioned to Eve's picture in my hand, and I nodded.

"My best friend," I said softly.

"She looks like she could have been your sister."

"She might as well have been. I was an attending at Columbia and she worked at the Trade Center. We met in a library. She…um…she was helping a pigeon that had flown in. She was trying to get it back outside."

"A pigeon?" Owen said, laughing softly.

"I know, I didn't understand either. But she was this crazy bird lady, and all she ever wanted was to save anything that couldn't save itself."

"And now you're here and she's not…and you wish she could save you?"

My face flushed, and I looked down at the ground.

"It's stupid, I know."

"No, it's not. You're human. You're allowed to miss people you've lost. You look like you've been trying not to feel it since we got here. Yeah, I noticed. I'm observant when it comes to things like that. I try not to be, but you looked like you could use a friend. So that's what I'm doing. If you want."

I looked back up at him, surprising _myself_ when I noticed that I had moved closer to him without realizing it. He stood up again, starting to walk away, and it hit me that his presence was the most comforting thing I'd felt in years.

"Wait," I blurted and jumped to my feet, and he stopped and turned around. And was I imagining things or was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips?

"She died in the second tower. Eve. That's why I'm here. I don't want revenge against the people who did this to her. I just…I don't want anyone else to lose their Eve. I already lost mine. I don't want more people to have to go through this. It hurts. It hurts so much that sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be over it. I'm willing to keep feeling it if it means the rest of the world doesn't have to."

"That's…wow." He took my hand and squeezed it gently, enough to make me feel better but obviously not wanting to cross any boundaries with physical contact. "You just did something a lot of people don't usually do for me."

"I…scared you away? Made you feel uncomfortable?"

"No, nothing like that. You surprised me."

I could still feel tears drying on my face, but I smiled anyway. A real, genuine smile.

"Keep surprising people, Altman."

He stood up and started to walk away.

"Owen," I called, and he turned and took a few steps toward me.

"Yeah?"

"It's…um…it's Teddy."

"Teddy." He stared at me for a second, and I locked my eyes onto his gaze. "I like it. It suits you."

My face flushed, and I silently prayed that it was dark enough that he couldn't see it.

"You belong here. Don't ever feel like you don't."

"Owen. I'm scared of _helicopters_."

"And? I'm scared of sandstorms and we're in the _desert_. My point is it's okay. No one is here because they're expecting this experience to be fun. It's going to be scary. But it's going to be worth it. Your friend…Eve…I bet she's proud of you. I bet she's watching you right now and thinking, 'THAT is my best friend.' And she wouldn't want you to feel like you're alone. You have people here. You have me now. I'll introduce you to my sister in the morning. If you ever need anything, we've got you."

"Thank you," I whispered as he pulled me into a hug, and I watched as he walked back inside. And that was it. I was head-over-heels. I found out about Beth the next morning, and I spent a few more years shoving the feelings I had for him _deep_ into the back of my mind. But in love or not, I was grateful to have him close. I felt so blissfully safe when I was around him. No matter what happened in my life, no matter how many times I fell apart, he was there to put me back together.

And that safety never changed. No matter how much we had fought in the past, he never stopped protecting me. Not for a second. And I was still hopelessly in love with every piece of him that existed for me to love.

 _If Eve could see me now_ , I thought, pulling the pillow out from under my back and snuggling into Owen's chest.

"You okay?" he said, tilting his face down to kiss the top of my head.

"Just thinking about things," I said softly, hoping he'd understand what I meant, and he did.

"Eve?"

"I miss her," I said softly, "It's okay. It's not anything you need to worry about I just…I always thought she'd be here to meet my kids. I thought if I ever got pregnant and moved into a house with someone I was madly in love with, she'd come visit…God, you would have loved her, Owen. She was _definitely_ godmother material."

Owen's arms tensed, and I knew he was trying his best to hold me closer.

"Can I do anything?"

"Just being here is enough. I promise. She was my family though. You know _that_ , right?"

He nodded, and I could feel his chin brush against my hair.

"She was my Megan. Until…you know…you let me share _your_ Megan. And my parents…well, you know them. The day I got my uniform, they told me not to bother coming home again. I haven't…I mean, it's been years. As morbid as it sounds, I don't even know if they're alive anymore. Not that anyone would tell me otherwise. And even if they are, I've had signs that they might have told people I died in Iraq. I don't blame them, it would have been easier for them than the truth. But I've run into people since I got home who seemed a little too surprised to see me."

I sat up and turned around to face Owen, feeling a pang of guilt when I realized that I must have startled the baby, who had fluttered underneath my hand as soon as I moved.

"I just can't believe this is my life now," I said. "After everything that's happened to me for most of my life…you're still here, I'm still crazy about you…this is real. Even with all the people I've lost, I have you and you're not going anywhere."

"I'm your family," he said gently, reaching for my hands, and I let him pull me back into his arms. "I'm your family and you are mine. And I am never letting you slip away again."

"Can you believe we got here?" I asked. "If you could go back in time and tell your Iraq-self, when you met me, that we'd be having a baby together…that we'd be buying a _house_ together…would you believe it?"

"Maybe," he said. "There was always something about you that drew me to you. You're captivating. Looking at you has always been like watching someone paint. The painting's not finished, but I just can't look away. I want to see how all the colors are going to blend together, and how all the white space is going to transform into something else."

"I'm proud of us," I said, leaning back into his chest. "We're such grown-ups now. Can you believe _that_?"

" _That_ I can believe. I'm proud of us, too."

"I love you," I said softly. "I don't say that enough as it is, and everything has been about either me or the baby lately, but I just…I love you. So much."

"I love you, too," Owen said, pressing his lips against the top of my head again.

The music on the TV changed as the credits started to roll, and I realized that I had been so deep in my own thoughts, I had forgotten we were even watching a movie.

"Hey, I thought of something we could do tomorrow," Owen said as he got up to take the DVD out.

"Go to work?" I suggested, and he laughed.

"After that."

"What?"

"I was thinking…we could find out if this little peanut is a boy or a girl."

"Already?"

"We haven't done the NIPT because you were going back and forth from Germany and getting settled here. It's just a blood test. I know you don't like needles very much, but it'll only take a second. Do you want to?"

I nodded and leaned forward so Owen could sit behind me again.

"I'm sure it's a boy, though."

He gave me his own version of my Look, and laughed a little. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "But the thought of having a daughter…scares me a little. What if I ruin her like my mother ruined me?"

"What if you don't?" Owen said. "What if we have a perfect little girl? Red hair and green eyes…or blonde hair and blue eyes. Just imagine her in your arms for the first time. Those chubby little cheeks…her tiny little arms reaching for you…doesn't that just melt you?"

God, it really did.

"You know that as soon as we know the sex, we'll be ready to start arguing about names, right?"

I turned around to see the look on his face, which was, as I expected, his usual goofy grin.

"Bring it on."


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, I lost all sense of time. I checked in on my patients, was in and out of the lab—I did everything the way I normally do. But I was distracted, almost to the point of no return. In five hours, I would have an answer to the question I'd had since I found out I was pregnant, and the whole experience would have a new sense of reality. I would know for sure if my tiny human was a boy or a girl. Owen and I would be able to pick out names and decorate the nursery and do everything normal couples do when they're about to be parents. All of these baby steps he promised we'd take—they were finally starting to add up, and at fourteen (almost fifteen) weeks, I was unreasonably excited. I was officially outside the time when most miscarriages happen, every ultrasound we'd seen had shown a clear, strong heartbeat, and ever since Owen had put the image in my head the night before, I had not been able to stop picturing our tiny baby reaching its arms out toward me.

It was, to put it simply, consuming me. After all of the years I had spent convincing myself that maybe I was just destined to be alone, I had a boyfriend who went out of his way to remind me that he loved me, a baby due on Christmas Day, and to go along with it, a baby bump that I just couldn't keep my hands off of. It was like an addiction, the thrill that came with feeling every movement, and for one wild moment, I regretted not looking into IVF when I was in Germany. Maybe I could have had this sooner. But ultimately, I was content where I was. This baby was half of me and half of Owen. He'd said it himself—chubby cheeks, tiny little arms and legs, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Or red hair and my green eyes. _Our_ baby. The thought of it was almost intoxicating, and I unconsciously wrapped my arms around my abdomen like I was hugging myself.

"I can't wait to hold you," I whispered, and I got a flutter in return. "Hi, baby. You can't wait to meet me, too?"

"I don't want to interrupt," Owen said, snapping me out of my daydreams and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, "but…are you ready?"

I twisted around in his arms to face him, and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

"I'll take that as a yes?"

"I'm _so_ ready."

He held my hand the whole way down to Arizona's office, and let me squeeze it as hard as I wanted while Arizona was doing the blood test, with the promise that I wouldn't break his fingers.

"No offense, babe, you just don't know your own strength," he'd said, and I gave him the satisfaction of making me laugh.

"The lab should have your results in a few hours, okay?" Arizona said. "All we're doing is matching the blood test results to your first ultrasound. You can stay here if you want, or you can go home and I'll call you when it's ready. Up to you."

I looked up at Owen.

"Do you want to just stay? I have work I should probably finish up. And then we'd just be upstairs."

He agreed, but the minute we got back up to the lab, we both realized what a mistake we'd made. The thought of either of us being able to focus on anything work-related was absurd, almost laughable. I couldn't even sit still, let alone center my attention on medical journals I'd already read a hundred times. Owen was in worse shape than I was—he'd started out sitting next to me, but he had, thinking I wouldn't notice, gotten up and started pacing. I pretended I hadn't seen it because I knew he'd feel better that way, but I was so aware of his heavy footsteps behind me that I could almost feel them pounding in my chest like some weird heartbeat.

"Do you think she'll find anything _genetically_ wrong?" he said finally, still unable to sit down again, but hovering next to me.

"I don't think there's anything on my side. As far as I know, I don't have a family history of anything horrifying. We're all obsessively organized with a tendency to snap at people who try to disrupt our systems. But I don't know if I could pass _that_ on to a child, especially when that child has half of your DNA."

"Hey," he said, laughing. "I'm not as much of a mess as you think."

I raised one eyebrow at him, but didn't argue.

"What about you?"

Owen said nothing, but pointed at his hair, flashing that goofy grin I loved so much.

" _I_ wouldn't classify that as a genetic abnormality," I said. "I think it's cute."

"What about the other thing?" He pulled the chair back out and sat next to me again. "Still think we're having a boy?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "I was so sure last night, but now I just don't know. And I don't care. A healthy baby. That's all I want."

"Me, too."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes—I kept turning pages of the medical journal I'd been reading, but I forgot which one it was, and I sure as hell wasn't paying any attention to the words. Owen had finally stopped moving, but one of his hands had found its way to my back, and he was starting to rub slow circles between my shoulder blades. I wanted nothing more than to lean into him and close my eyes, but I couldn't. I was too wired, to the point where I jumped about a foot in the air when my phone buzzed.

"It's Arizona," I said breathlessly. "She's ready."

"Everything looks _great_ ," she said when we got back to her office. "You two must have amazing genes."

I hadn't realized how tense I was until I felt myself relax, and I let myself lean back onto Owen's chest like a slow-motion trust fall.

"Thank God," I said, exhaling and feeling my head rush slightly—apparently I had been holding my breath.

"Ready for the fun part?" Arizona asked.

I turned to look at Owen, and he nodded.

"Your Christmas baby is a girl."

"A baby girl," I whispered, and my breath caught in my chest. All of my fears from the night before had dissipated. The only thing I could think of was our daughter. Our Christmas baby. By Christmas morning, she could _be_ here. We could sit by the window with her and watch the snow, take cheesy pictures of her underneath the tree—she was by far the best present I had ever gotten.

Owen and I left the hospital in a complete daze. We weren't speaking, but I knew we were thinking of the exact same thing.

 _Our daughter._

Just thinking it felt surreal, and the entire ride home, I was almost buzzing with excitement. I planned dates in my head for when we could set up an appointment for a 4-D ultrasound. In a few months, we could look at her, _really_ look at her. We would be able to see her _face_ , and it was that more than anything else that kept me up that night, long after Owen went to bed.

 _We're going to see her,_ I thought, and in that exact moment, I knew there was something I had to do, and I wouldn't be able to sleep until it was done. Beside me, Owen's breathing was already slow and even—he was deeply asleep, and I knew I wouldn't wake him up, even as I untangled myself from his arms. The baby fluttered under my hand as I went downstairs.

"Shh, it's okay," I whispered. "I promise we'll get some sleep after this."

I grabbed a blanket from the basket next to the couch and went outside. The sky was starting to show the beginning of a storm, and I curled up with the blanket in one of the chairs on the porch, making a mental note to tell Owen in the morning that a house with a covered porch was one of the best ideas he'd ever had.

My heart rate started to pick up a little bit, but I shrugged it off.

 _Relax,_ I thought. _This isn't weird. New moms do this all the time. Deep breaths._

"Hi, baby girl," I said finally. "It's your mommy."

She fluttered under my hand again, and I took that as a sign to continue.

"I don't know if you can even hear me. I just need to say some things out loud. I need…I just want to tell you how much I love you. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be having a baby right now…I would have laughed in their face. I would have told them off for being ridiculous. The thought of it then would have seemed delusional. But now? You've been with me for almost four months and I can't imagine not having you. You're everything I didn't know I wanted, and I'm sorry I couldn't see that sooner. I panicked when I found out about you. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried for hours, and I hope to God you won't hold that against me. I was scared, that's all. Don't think for a minute that it means I love you any less. Scary things happen sometimes and I was by myself, but I'm not anymore, and you _never_ will be. Whatever you need for the rest of your life, I am yours. I love you more than I thought was even _possible_ to love someone. I think about you and I forget how to breathe. I'm a cardiothoracic surgeon…I know it's impossible…but you make me feel like my heart is going to explode.

When I was little…I had two parents who shouldn't have been parents. I wasn't planned, and I wasn't exactly a welcome surprise for them. I didn't realize it until I found out I was expecting you, but I've been so afraid of ending up like that. But lately, that's been the _last_ thing on my mind. I heard your heartbeat and all I wanted was to speed the clock up and have you in my arms. And that's all I'll _ever_ want until it happens. You—and your daddy, too—are my whole entire life. Everything I will ever do for the rest of my life is for you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

At some point, it had started raining and I had started crying, but I had no recollection of any of it. I was alone in time and space with my daughter, and that was the only thing occupying my thoughts. The storm was just background noise.

I stayed outside a little bit longer, waiting for the tears to slow to a stop and running my hand up and down my abdomen, my heart jumping at every flutter. I was, for the first time in years, completely at peace. There was not a single thing on my mind. Not Eve, not my parents, not even—and I felt my stomach lurch with guilt at the thought of this—Henry. My usually-paralyzing fear of loss had quieted down to the point where I could barely feel it. Like Owen, I had come back from Iraq with triggers, but they were calmer than they'd _ever_ been. There was nothing around me, nothing in my head, but my family. And that, I decided, was where I was leaving it for the night, without giving myself a chance to overthink _anything_.

I stood up from the chair with the blanket over my arm, took one last look at the light show in the sky, and went back inside. I locked the door and the blanket went back in the basket, and I put my hand back in its usual resting place.

"Bedtime, baby girl," I whispered, and went upstairs, stopping only to stare into the sea-foam green room for a minute. In five months, we'd have a daughter in that room. A whole entire person to give all of our love to. I pulled the door shut a little bit, breaking the spell I was under, and slipped back into our bedroom and got back under the covers with Owen. He stirred a little without waking up, unconsciously wrapping his arms around me again.

"I love you," I whispered to him, and then tilted my head to the baby, "and I love _you_."


	10. Chapter 10

It had only taken an eternity, but for the first time since Henry I was used to going to sleep and waking up next to someone. In Germany, I had an adjustment phase. I confined myself to my own side of the bed, even causing myself back pain from the effort it took to keep just my toes away from Henry's side. But the more familiar I was with being alone, the more I started to spread out. By the time Owen visited _that night_ , I had gotten myself so used to sleeping diagonally and taking up the entire bed that he was lucky I remembered how to share.

Before I came back to Seattle, it was the same as it was after losing Henry. I sent Owen home, replaced the pink blanket on my bed with the blue one I rarely used, and went back to sleeping on my own side. After one night, I had gotten used to something that wasn't even mine to get used to. That one night had sent me right back to square one.

But now? Things were so different that it made my head spin just thinking about it. I was on my own side of the bed, but this time held in place by a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist. Every once in a while, my legs would start to drift over to Owen's side, but instead of finding freezing cold sheets that sent a chill down my spine every time, I found a _person_ who took that as an opportunity to snuggle even closer to me. I woke up _every morning_ to Owen's face buried in my hair and his arms circled around me. Every day, there was less and less room for him to do it because of the baby, but neither of us cared. He was happy to hold me and I was happy to be held. Some mornings, I intentionally waited until he woke up to get out of bed, just so I wouldn't interrupt whatever it was he was dreaming about. He was so peaceful, and we had been told by every parent we knew that we should be soaking up all of the sleep-filled nights while we still had the chance.

"Good morning, beautiful," Owen whispered, face still pressed against the side of my head, snapping me out of my daydream.

"Good morning," I whispered, tilting my head to kiss his cheek.

"You're overthinking something," he said, propping himself up on his arm to look down on me and tapping his finger gently on my forehead. "What's going on in there?"

"What isn't?" I answered, poking him back in _just_ the right place on his arm that it gave out, making him fall back down onto the pillow.

" _Hey_ ," he said, with that laugh that I loved as an added bonus. "Are you not a morning person today?"

"That was payback for spraying whipped cream in my face when we made waffles."

"That was _months_ ago," he argued.

"That," I shot back between bursts of laughter, "was yesterday morning."

"Oh. Right."

With the arm that hadn't just gotten poked, he reached over and ran his fingers through my hair, stumbling slightly over the places where my curls were especially slept-on.

"No, really. What are you thinking about?"

"You," I said. Short and sweet and entirely truthful.

"What about me?"

"I just…can't believe this is my life. You know me. You know where I've been, who I've lost…so this feels like a dream. Like I'm living something out of someone else's existence and any second, I'm going to wake up and be back in my boyfriend-less, baby-less, Seattle-less widow life. But I'm _not_. You're here and we're _thriving_ and every time I wake up, it's with you right beside me. For the first time in my entire life, I don't feel like I'm about to lose everything. I feel like a normal person. I feel _alive_. And I have you to thank for that."

"I'm choosing to ignore that this is the third time you've told me that in the past week and a half," Owen said, with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you. To the moon and back."

I rolled over to give him my best attempt at a hug while still in bed, saying my "I love you too" right into his shoulder.

"But…" he said softly, and I sat up so fast that the baby gave me a sharp kick in the ribs.

"Sorry," I whispered to her. "But _what_?"

"Nothing."

" _Owen_."

"It's nothing, I promise. I just hate the word 'boyfriend.' And while we're on that subject, girlfriend is a pretty stupid word, too. Don't you think? It's so…I don't know. Fifth grade. Doesn't it just make you think of having a crush on someone and slipping a "Do you like me? Check yes or no" note into their locker?"

"Not..not really," I said, fighting the urge to laugh. "But maybe that's just because I _told_ my crushes I liked them instead of bothering to write a note. I grew up in New York City, Owen. Where I went to school, writing a note was the coward's way out."

"If that's the case, you're going to hate what's under your pillow."

I raised my eyebrows at him and felt under my pillow until I found half of a sheet of paper.

 _Do you like me: check yes or no._

"Owen, what the _hell_ —"

"I'll take that as a yes," he said. "I remember you telling me that story _years_ ago. I couldn't resist. I'm sorry. I still love messing with your head. But…all jokes aside, flip it over."

 _Sorry. I had to. If you've forgiven me for that god-awful joke and feel like metaphorically checking yes (because WHY would you have a pen if you just woke up?), find the pink blanket._

"Owen, what's going on?"

"Just do it. It'll be fun, trust me," he said, letting me use his arm for support as I got out of bed.

The pink blanket was right where I had accidentally left it the night before—at the bottom of the stairs, where I had thrown it in frustration when I had tried to fold it and found out that the baby now made it impossible for me to bend down far enough to put it in the basket with the rest of the blankets. But now there was a note on top of it.

"Owen, I love you, but I can't bend over enough to reach that," I said, and he leaned down effortlessly to pick it up and hand it to me.

"Showoff…" I whispered, making him laugh again.

 _I know how stupid it sounds that something as insignificant as a blanket can mean the whole entire world to me. But thank you for not getting rid of it when you moved. When I see it in our house, all I can think of is watching the snow with you in Germany. I know that night ended terribly. I know I hurt you. And for that, I am so deeply sorry, more than you could ever know or understand. You're stubborn enough that you'll tell me you do, but you don't. Thinking about that night makes me feel like there's a rock in my chest where my heart should be._

 _At the same time though, I think it was the push we needed to get us talking about our problems again. Since that night, we've been more open and honest with each other than we EVER have been before, and I'm grateful for that. I got used to how closed off you've been before, and it's refreshing to hear about what's going on in that brain of yours. Even if it's just what happened to you during the day. I love to hear it._

 _And it doesn't hurt that we got a baby out of that night, too. You're the family I've always dreamed of. There is not a day that goes by that I don't spend at least an hour daydreaming about what it will be like when the baby gets here. Family Halloween costumes…both of you waking me up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning because you're too excited to stay in bed another minute…making snow angels in the backyard…those daydreams are going to be a reality in a few months. I know it's only October, but I can't get it out of my head. All of it. We're going to be so happy._

By this point, the words looked blurred, and I blinked a few times before I realized I'd been crying.

"Hey, no tears," Owen said, coming up behind me and gently squeezing my shoulders.

"I can at least pretend it's the hormones, right?"

"Sure you can," he said, kissing the top of my head. "Don't stop yet, though. There's one more."

I flipped the paper over and over, looking for some sign of another clue, but there wasn't one.

"I think I need some coffee, do you want anything?"

"Owen…"

" _Oh_ , you want the next clue?"

I didn't even bother hiding my confusion this time, especially not when Owen got two mugs out of the cabinet above the stove and pulled a piece of paper out of one of them.

 _I stand by what I said earlier. Girlfriend is a stupid word. And let's be honest, I've had enough of them for one lifetime. I have had SO many girlfriends._

"Owen, _what_ am I looking at? Believe me, of all people, I know how many girlfriends you've had."

"Keep reading."

 _But you're different._

 _I love you in a way that I didn't know I was able to love another person. In a way that makes my heart want to explode out of my chest when I look at you._

 _I want to argue about baby names and paint colors, I want to take the kids to school together before we go to work, and seriously, WHY don't we have a dog yet?_

 _You are my family. My person. Out of all of the people that have come in and out of my life, you're the one I want to stick. I don't want to live another day without you. And I sure as hell don't want to call you anything as stupid and temporary as my "girlfriend."_

With the hand that wasn't holding his own coffee, Owen reached out and handed me a mug.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," he said, winking, and I felt my heart begin to pound as I looked into the mug and saw a ring staring back. Owen gently tugged the mug out of my hand and tipped the ring into his palm.

"I never want to call you my girlfriend again," he said softly, taking my hand in his and dropping down to one knee. "I want to call you my wife."

I had never been the kind of person who cried in front of other people, but the tears in my eyes were having a free-for-all.

"You are everything I never realized I wanted, and by the time I figured it out, I was so scared that it would be too late, that I had missed my chance this time. But you gave me another one, and I got my head on straight. It's you. It's always been you. And I never want it to be anyone else again."

"Yes," I whispered.

"No fair, I didn't even ask you yet," Owen argued playfully.

"I'm sorry," I said, letting a giggle escape through the tears.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," I whispered, unable to keep myself still as he slid the ring onto my finger and letting my legs give out so I could collapse into his arms. "It's always been you for me, too."


End file.
